Page 41 of Mystic's Sunrise

The air in the room turned suffocating. “Attacked her how?” Spinner asked, voice barely controlled.

Zeynep’s fingers trembled against my sleeve. “He hurt her. Tried to... break her.” She sucked in a sharp breath, tears welling in her eyes. “She fought. Until he knocked her out. She wasn’t... conscious when he... but I wasn’t allowed to look away.”

I clenched my fists, my vision going red. I had seen some dark shit in my time, but this—this hit different.

“That’s enough,” I said, firm and quiet. I’d shoulder every demon she carried if it meant she could rest.

But Zeynep wasn’t done. “She... she got me out,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “If it wasn’t for her... I’d still be there.”

Her words slammed into Spinner like a freight train. I saw it happen in real time, the moment every doubt, every misplaced accusation, came crashing down on him. He looked at the photograph again, his fingers curling into fists.

“The photo,” he muttered, his throat tight.

Zeynep’s eyes flashed. “Fake,” she spat, conviction trembling in her voice.

The chair scraped against the floor as Spinner stood abruptly. His whole body looked like it was caught between fury and regret. “Do you know where she’d go?” he asked, voice tight, desperate.

Zeynep’s shoulders slumped. “No.”

I ran a hand over my face, exhaling sharply. “Enough. You’re gonna do real damage if you keep pushin’ yourself.”

Spinner turned toward Devil, who had been silent, watching. “Where the hell do we start lookin’?”

Devil stood, his expression grim. “Wherever she is, we need to find her before Fang does.”

Zeynep’s thin fingers wrapped around Spinner’s wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. “Find her,” she rasped, her eyes pleading. “She doesn’t deserve this.”

Spinner swallowed hard and gave a firm nod. “I will.”

As he walked out of the room, I could see it, guilt settling in his shoulders, weighing him down. He had misjudged Lucy. He had failed her.

I clenched my fists. Now, it wasn’t just about making things right.

It was about getting her back. Before Fang hurt her again.

And this time—we wouldn’t fail her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I SAT CURLEDin the chair by the window, the small bookbalanced in my lap.A Walk With Me.My fingers traced the worn edges of the cover, the binding cracked from years of handling. I’d read it more times than I could count, but each time, it brought the same quiet peace. A stillness that settled deep inside me, keeping the worst of my fears at bay.

I forced myself to focus on the words. On the imagery of a simple walk, the narrator describing the rustling leaves, the gentle bend of the river, the way the morning light kissed thetreetops. There was no pain in these pages. No violence. Just the beauty of the world, untouched by cruelty.

My fingers tightened around the book.Lucy, please be safe.

A knock at the door made me jump, and I snapped the book shut, pressing it against my chest. Mystic stepped in, his gaze sweeping over me before settling on the book in my hands. He frowned slightly, stepping closer.

“That’s the book Lucy brought?” he asked, eyes narrowed with quiet curiosity.

I hesitated, then slowly relaxed my grip. Swallowing hard, my throat still sore from earlier, I lifted the book slightly, letting him see it.

Mystic sat on the edge of the bed, nodding toward it. “What’s it about?”

I hesitated before flipping it open, running my fingers over the faded words. “About looking at the beauty all around you,” I whispered, my voice still raspy but stronger than before.

He tilted his head, waiting. I could tell he wasn’t the type to push, but his interest was real.

“I found it when I was sold to Big John Ricca,” I continued softly, assuming they already knew my history by now. “Under a cot... the place I was kept. It was small, forgotten by the girl before me. But I read it.” A small, almost wistful smile tugged at my lips. “It spoke about walking through the world, seeing its beauty. How even when things feel dark, there is always something... peaceful waiting just ahead.”